"I know how you can destroy the Yumens," Beaky said, weakly. By now, he'd finished the liquid Xitherium Arachna had brought him. How much he'd kept down she didn't know.

"How?" Arachna clicked curiously. She rested near her companion, still fondling the quantum component with her hands, eying the glowing circular lines of solidified Xitherium metal.

The itching that had started on her journey back to the broken trash compactor still covered her body. It took every ounce of her willpower to keep from scratching herself.

"Grow," Beaky said. "Become a Hive Mother. It is how you will serve the Cause."

Arachna jerked her head and twitched her spinnerette. "Not yet," she said. The idea of becoming a Hive Mother was overwhelming. To take on such a large responsibility. She was just a queenling. A small Krath on a large Yumen ship.

"You must," Beaky said. "For the Cause."

"The Yumens will find me," Arachna clicked. "Need to stay small."

"Soon you cannot help but grow," Beaky said. "Freezing your body has only slowed the transformation process."

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Arachna said nothing.

"You must continue our race," Beaky clicked. "The fate of our species may rest with you. As I said, I do not know what became of our home."

Arachna pondered that point for a moment. "Spectra lives."

Beaky was silent. "Mother," he said. "You speak her name."

Arachna flicked her spinnerette in agreement. The itching was becoming more intense. What was happening to her? The last time this happened she froze herself in a Yumen freezer to make it go away. Even then, when she woke up she had hands.

"Then there may be hope beyond this ship," he clicked. "But nevertheless, your fate is to rule. To serve the Cause. It is the fate of all queenlings who survive."

Survive. If she survived. But in order to do so she needed to stay small. Hidden.

"I can protect you," Beaky clicked. "Almost healed."

He lifted up a wing. It was still torn and broken in parts. His body was riddled with wounds that had only partially healed. Beaky slumped back onto the ground.

Arachna peered at the ground next to Beaky. Oh no, she thought to herself. The dactyl had regurgitated most of the Xitherium she'd brought to him. There had to be a way to help him keep the food down. This would not do.

Suddenly, the itching worsened. She began to scratch her whole body. Using all six of her legs and her two hands she scratched. And scratched. And scratched. And scratched.

"Ahh," she cried, writhing on the ground. "It's so intense. Help."

Beaky struggled to drag himself over to her, dried blood coating his backside. He gain slumped on the ground, too weak to move.

"As I said," Beaky clicked. "It has begun."

"What?" Arachna clicked. "What has begun?"

"You're molting," Beaky said.

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